


they got it right. (the butterfly effect remix)

by talesofsuspenses



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), they fall inlve and cacw never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:45:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsuspenses/pseuds/talesofsuspenses
Summary: "Bucky's alive, and he killed Tony's parents."Or the universe where they might get it right the first time over.





	they got it right. (the butterfly effect remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Butterfly Effect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617755) by [itsallAvengers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers). 



> a remix of itsallavengers' the butterfly effect, because absolutely fuck my art gcse

_“Bucky’s alive, and he killed Tony’s parents.”_

Loki’s words from earlier spin around Steve’s mind, over and over, he’s hardly paying attention to what Fury’s saying, something about ‘being a team’, making the Avengers official. Steve’s fine with that, he’s pretty much only good for war anyway, but all that’s going through his head are those damn words.

Loki had been disguised as Steve, he’d claimed that he wasn’t Loki, but he’d called Stark ‘Tony’. Steve’s almost certain that they’ll never end up on first-name basis.

None of it made any sense, he saw Bucky die, he saw him fall, he heard his scream, still, most nights, Howard died in the 90s, half a century after Bucky did. But then again, he’s alive, 70 years after he thought he was done, after he _should_ be done.

“The Good Captain, daydreaming, are you?” Stark’s voice cuts through his thoughts, from across the conference table.

Steve doesn’t hate him, not after the battle, after the nuke, after how seamlessly they managed to fight, but he’s not sure that he likes him. Tony Stark is an asshole. By all definitions. But he can’t deny that he’s a hero, Steve was wrong before, he’ll freely admit it, Tony Stark is an ass, but he’s also a hero. Steve respects that. 

He also can’t deny that the guy has some sort of inexplainable _pull_ , like he’s the world’s brightest light and Steve’s the world’s most confused moth.

“If that’s what they call thinking now,” Steve says, instead any of the moth-bullshit. 

It’s fun to play up to the ‘confused old guy’ shtick. He has to. Find joy in it or let it get to him. He has the chance for a new life, he’s not going to spend it miserable. He might even get a chance to live it with Bucky. If Loki was telling the truth.

Stark rolls his eyes and drums his fingers on the tabletop, “We gotta get you more caught up. Anyway-” 

The focus shifts back to something else, and before he knows it, everyone’s standing up and shaking hands and leaving. 

“Stark, a word?” Steve asks, just as he’s about to leave, the last person, save for Steve himself, who’s still sitting down. 

Stark looks confused for a moment but then sits back down, “Sure, Cap, what can I do for you?” 

Tony’s pretty sure that he’s gonna try and apologise again, as much as he was a dick back in the helicarrier, Rogers is exactly the way Aunt Peggy described him, but nothing like the way his dad did. Except that he is.

Tony’s not sure what to think of him, he’d never admit it, but Rogers confuses the hell out of him. He’s just as good as the history books, Aunt Peggy and his dad say, Tony’s never been the best at reading people, but even in the way he talks and holds himself, there’s this unmistakable _good_ that he radiates, pure and simple, but at the same time, there’s a melancholy air about him, like a rain cloud above his head. He’d seen him smile once, _we won_ , and it was bright, sunny, like the rainclouds had gone. 

And then he’d never seen it again, even though, in the past few weeks, they’ve seen each other quite a bit, but he’s never seen him smile, he’s seen the horribly fake one he puts on for the press and for people who thank him for his duty, and for some reason that tugs at the heartstrings Tony pretends not to have, more than when he watches Rogers drop completely, when he thinks no-one’s looking. It’s not obvious, but his shoulders go from perpendicular to his neck to obtuse.

It tears Tony apart a little, when he sees him, back ramrod straight, every single muscle tensed, when they’re just talking. 

He carries the world on his shoulders, Tony realises, because he thinks that it’s his duty. Even though he doesn’t even really know him, not really, hours worth of bedtime stories didn’t count, it feels like a universal wrong for someone that good to be so, so sad but he’s never met a problem he couldn’t solve. 

So even though Steve Rogers is a bit of an asshole, he’s also sad, nothing like the guy Aunt Peggy talks about, and yeah, he doesn’t know him, but, if anything, he deserves to be happy.

Stark gives Steve his undivided attention, and a little part of him is pleased, smug, that he’s managed to capture it, Stark is a genius, Howard and a half, maybe, definitely, more, and it’d been almost impossible to get Howard to focus solely on one thing.

Steve's throat closes up, it’s stupid. But he has to make sure, just check. If Loki was right, Stark deserves to know, if he wasn’t, then it didn’t matter.

“Come on Cap, neither of us are getting any younger,” Tony prompts, Rogers is scared, apprehensive of something, it’s plain on his face. It’s making Tony scared, because, despite everything in the last few weeks, Captain America was his childhood hero, he was invincible, to see him scared…

Steve takes a shaky breath, he can’t break down in front of Stark, he respects him, he’s not too sure the respect is mutual, and he’d lose it if there were any if he broke down now, “Loki told me something, Bucky, my friend from before the war, he’s alive. And, and he killed your parents.”

Stark looks at him for a moment, then stands up and leaves.

Tony leaves, he had to, he, God, he’s not going to have a panic attack in the middle of a SHIELD hallway. He makes it a couple steps down and finds an empty office, full of boxes, he stumbles in, locks the door and slides down to the floor. 

He takes a few deep breaths, tries to slow down his heart, presses a hand to his arc reactor, waits for the dark spots to fade. 

One of them had to be lying. Rogers or Loki. Loki. Probably, hopefully. God, he hopes. 

If it is true, first thing, he has to run checks to see if Rogers’ friend is alive, somehow, and then, find footage of the crash. 

He’d tried, before, he’d looked at everything he could, every single tape he could find, through legal and more creative means, he’d tried and tried and tried, countless sleepless nights, running on coffee, Adderall, scotch and other, more creative things, right until Aunt Peggy had come in and held him as he cried, and told him to put them to rest.

Logically, it couldn’t be true, Rogers’ friend would’ve been well into his 70s, not to mention that he’d fallen off a train in the Alps in the 40s. But, by all means, Tony shouldn’t be alive, neither should Rogers. 

Tony’s never been the guy to stick to petty things like ‘logic’ anyway.

So he gets himself together and goes back to the conference room, where Rogers still is, facing out towards the city below them, standing at parade rest. 

Stark didn’t believe him, Steve didn’t blame him, he had to move on, both of them. It’s unfair to him for Steve to bring back his parents’ death, from over 20 years ago, just because he still has his hangups.

He gets up, and then looks over the city, it’d changed so much, cleaner, taller, bluer, but the people were the same, New Yorkers are just as rude and uncaring as they were. As much as he doesn’t like rude people, he finds it oddly comforting. After losing everything, everyone, his home is still somewhat the same. 

Not really. His home isn’t his anymore. 

He’s crying before he knows it, tears silently sliding over his cheeks and dripping on the star in the center of his chest. He fucking hates it.  
Everyone and everything he’s ever known is gone, all he has is Captain America, the next fight.

He wipes the tears away, the leather of his gloves scratch roughly on his face, probably leaving marks that’ll fade in seconds. He reminds himself that there’s no point in crying, he’s here, he has to deal, that or die, and people are counting on him, so that’s not an option.

Deal or die. The ice has already proved that he can’t die, so he has to deal.

He hears the door open after five busses have gone down the same road, probably whoever needs the room next, he turns to apologise and get out, but he sees Stark, a little rumpled, a little breathless, and he gets deja vu, Stark looks like the soldiers after shellshock. He doesn’t ask, it’s rude, and Stark is stable.

“Let’s find your friend,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

“Stark, are you sure, I don’t want to, I don’t want to bring up anything you’ve put to rest, or waste your time, Loki could be lying,” Rogers says, so sincerely, earnestly, _fuck_ he’s such a good guy, through and through.

“Rogers. It’s nothing, I can make an algorithm, have it run, update you on the results,” Tony assures him. He has most of the algorithm already, he just needs to adjust some code blocks and functions, maybe set up auto updates, does Rogers have a phone?

“They gave me something called a Nokia. Agent Barton called it a brick,” Rogers says, out of the blue.

“What?”

Rogers turns bashful, the tips of his ears glow red, and he looks uncharacteristically unsure of himself, “You asked if I have a phone.”

“I was talking out loud, of course,” Tony mutters, “wait, a Nokia? Sorry Rogers, no can do, come to Stark tower tomorrow, 1500 hours, we’ll get you a real phone.” 

Whatever SHIELD were doing to introduce him into the century, they weren’t doing a good job.

“Stark--”

“Tony.”

This time, it’s Steve’s turn to be confused, “What?”

“My name. It’s Tony. Use it.” 

And with that, he spins around and leaves the room again.

SHIELD’s way of introducing him to the century is by giving him a laptop, explaining the laptop. It’s a computer and a typewriter, under an inch thick and has all the world’s information. It blows Steve’s mind. 

As soon as he figures out how to use it, he loves it, SHIELD make him take classes on it, what’s acceptable now, what changed, the wars, the politics, who’s who. They’re doing it a decade a week. 

Someone, maybe Agent Romanoff, told him that they were going to give him a tutor and books, but giving him a laptop seemed faster, _two birds, one stone_ she’d said. He’s glad they went about it this way, he could put in all the mandatory hours and then explore, all in his own time. 

The next day, he took out his motorbike, making sure that his phone and wallet - they’d given him a ‘debit card’ because he has way more money than he knows what to do with, because someone had managed to convince someone else that, technically, wasn’t KIA, only MIA and he has 70 years worth of backpay - were in his pocket and went off to Stark Tower.

Tony’s at the front, sunglasses perched on his nose, doing something on his phone, leaning against the door. He looks up when Steve stops in front of him.

“Afternoon, Capsicle,” he greets, pocketing his phone.

“Capsicle?” 

Tony grins, “Yep, Captain and icicle, Capsicle.”

“Yeah okay,” Steve concedes, a smile forming on his face, he misses the camaraderie and friendship of the Commandos, Tony reminds him of them, a little.

“Right, bring the bike ‘round back, there’s an elevator to my workshop,” Tony says straightening up and walking next to Steve as he slowly drives the bike around the tower.

They put the bike on one of the lower floors and then go up to Tony’s workshop.

The elevator ride is awkward, both of them staring at the numbers blinking higher, silent, elevator music hadn’t disappeared, he’s sure of it.

“Tony,” he says, suddenly, “why doesn’t your elevator play music?”

Tony snaps out of his thoughts and turns to face Steve, he laughs a little, “Everyone complained,” he says, shrugging, “JARVIS can play some for you, if you want.”

“JARVIS?” Is there another person in with them? He couldn’t see anyone but himself and Tony, an invisible person?

“Oh, right, yeah, JARVIS say hi,” Tony says, not to Steve.

“Good afternoon, Captain Rogers,” the… ceiling? says, in a smooth British accent. Tony’s elevator is weirder than he thought.

“Tony,” he says slowly, trying very hard not to break down, “why is there an invisible British man in your elevator?” _who knows my name!?_

“JARVIS,” Tony says, waving his hand about, in lieu of an explanation.

“Captain Rogers, I am an AI created by Tony Stark, I monitor this building, but I can be accessed through most devices, provided certain circumstances, my primary purpose is to ensure the wellbeing of my creator, you can interact with me by speaking aloud.” The ceiling man - JARVIS, says.

“JARVIS, do you know everything?” Steve asks looking up.

“I know as much as I am accessible to.”

“What are you accessible to?”

“Anything online.”

“What’s my middle name?”

“Grant.”

“Wh--”

“You know you don’t have to look at the ceiling every time you ask him something,” Tony cuts in, a fond smile on his face. He can’t help it. Cap, he’s so curious, and so clearly blown away, and in wonder of JARVIS, he feels a sense of pride, somewhere deep within him, because who knew that Captain America is a huge dork?

He gives Tony a look, “His voice comes from the ceiling, so I’ll talk to the ceiling,” he says, determined.

Before Tony can retort, the doors slide open and he’s greeted with his workshop lighting up.

“Holy shit, Tony,” he hears from his side, in a hushed whisper.

Steve’s eyes are wide as he takes in everything, it’s like he stepped into the future again, it’s- incredible.

Tony feels that tiny spike of pride again, because Captain America swore, that he tries to tamp down, because, yeah, he knows he's great, he’s a classified genius, he doesn’t need some nonagenarian to tell him.

Tony takes Steve and sits him down and begins explaining the algorithm, Steve’s attentive, focussed, he asks questions when he doesn't get something, after, maybe an hour, Tony gets JARVIS to run everything, it’ll take a while, but they have time.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, at a quiet moment, Steve suddenly sits up, “Tony, if he is alive, and he did, cause your parent’s death, what- what happens, I can’t- I--”

“Hey, hey, we’ll deal with it, okay,” Tony reassures, he’s the last guy anyone should go to for comfort, but Steve, he needs the support right now.

Tony gives Steve a Starkphone, a model they’ll release in a couple months, it’s ready, all of it, but something about PR and release times mean that they can’t release it just yet. He shows him how to use it and sets up JARVIS, he’s so full of wonder and gratitude, Tony’s heart aches after him.

They talk about the team, the Avengers, Tony tells Steve his plans, Steve tells his of a road trip, they go out to get dinner together, it’s awkward and stilted, but they might be getting somewhere.

Steve thinks that they’re on the way to becoming friends. He can’t fuck it up. He won’t.

Over the next few months, Tony stays in New York more than he has to, and they become no closer to finding Bucky, but closer as friends. Then Tony dies.

But he doesn’t.

“Can’t kill me,” he’d said, banged up, but with a grin. Because his house got blown up, he had to stay in New York, in the Tower, and then everyone stayed in the Tower, _Avengers Tower._

Steve meets Dum-E. This time, it’s Tony who’s absolutely blown away, because Steve smiles so, so bright when he’s in his workshop, playing with Dum-E, it’s ridiculous, and Tony feels a spike of affection, and, love, and fear. Because what if he fucks it up.

When Tony lets Steve meet Dum-E, Steve’s in awe once again, because Tony’s opened up a tiny part of his heart to him, and Steve’s determined to make sure that he doesn’t, won’t regret it.

New York, Brooklyn, it still isn’t really home to him, not anymore, but the Tower, Tony’s workshop, being around Tony, he feels at home.

They become closer, best friends then, something more. They don’t fuck it up.

The first time Tony has a panic attack in front of Steve, it’s from a nightmare, about a month into their relationship. 

Steve wakes him up by shaking his shoulder, and Tony lashes out in his sleep, punching Steve right on his cheekbone, the bruise is barely there when Tony comes to, but he still notices it.

“Steve, was that--” Tony asks, voice rough, small. He wouldn’t blame Steve for leaving, for breaking up with him, but God, he hopes that they could still be friends.

“You, yeah, but, hey, hey, Tony, it doesn’t hurt, I’d take a thousand punches to make sure you’re ok,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there for a second.

“Okay, thanks,” Tony mumbles, quiet, because, in that moment, he realises that what he has with Steve, it’s a sure thing.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart, it’s what I’m here for,” Steve says, pulling away to look at Tony, promising him a million different things with one look. 

He’s beautiful, in the faint moonlight JARVIS let in, Tony doesn’t deserve him, not in a million lifetimes could he do enough good to ever deserve Steve Rogers, but Steve had chosen him, and he didn’t want to give him any reasons to regret it.

Tony just wraps his arms back around him, holding him tighter, leaning his head just above his heart, listening to it beat, strong and steady, letting it lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, Steve kisses his forehead to wake him up, with a cup of coffee, and then asks about what he should do, if Tony has a panic attack again. Tony tells him, what’s dangerous, what he doesn’t want, and Steve listens, pays attention.

Tony tells him what they’re about. The army from space. Steve promises him that they’re ok, that, if he wanted to, he could protect the earth.

It reminds him, strikingly of when Steve’d asked if he has shell-shock, voice curious, not judgmental, a few months into their friendship, when they could easily call each other friends. Tony had given him a crash course in the progress of mental health and attitudes towards it.

_They call it PTSD, now. And there’s doctors, head-doctors. To help._

Steve had then, tentatively, asked if he could get him in touch with a head doctor. Which had meant that SHIELD hadn’t bothered. 

_Yeah, sure._

The first thing Tony had done, after making sure Steve gets the best of the best, was go over to SHIELD and tell them what he thought of bringing a guy 70 years into the future and not even checking him for any trouble upstairs.

Tony loves him. It doesn’t hit him, it’s not like a truck to the face, it’s not violent, loud, it’s relief, _finally_ something, somewhere, says. 

Good thing he loved him back.

Then SHIELD falls. Oversight, protection, it’s needed, but not like that.

Steve wakes up in DC General, Tony’s by his bedside, with Sam, music’s playing, but he only has one thing on his mind. 

Tony hugs him, kisses him, desperately, Sam leaves them with a knowing smile.

“You’re not allowed to die, Steve- I--” Tony chokes out, he can’t lose him.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, I’m right here,” he says, hoarsely, kissing him, over and over.

He’s not allowed to be discharged just yet, so he convinces Tony to sleep in the hospital bed with him, he has to hold him, and he has to tell him.

His heart is beating a million miles an hour, Tony can probably hear it, feel it, he doesn’t want to fuck this up, he can’t.

“Tony, he was right, Tony, Loki was right, Bucky, he, the Winter Soldier killed them,” Steve rushes out, all in one breath.

Tony sits up, suddenly, jolting the bed. Steve grunts a little. “Sorry,” he murmurs, kissing Steve on the forehead.

Tony looks down at Steve and his heart just breaks, Steve looks nothing short of terrified, something he hadn’t seen on him in, _years_ now, he’s looking him in the eye, his eyes are so, so, blue, bright and unrepenting, guarded, his hair’s a mess on his forehead, flopping over his eyes. 

It hits Tony, just how much he’s changed since he met him, Steve was, confused, mostly, lost, scared, he used to pretend that he wasn’t, for fear of seeming weak, Tony remembers Steve telling him, when he thought that he was asleep, quietly. 

He was so, so guarded, and tense, all the time, now, he’s vulnerable to him, he’s changed and grown so, so much, Tony’s so goddamn proud of him.

He takes a deep breath, “Okay, thank you for telling me.”

“Tony, he was, he’s brainwashed, it wasn’t--” Steve rushes to say, almost pleading, what for, he doesn’t know. For Tony to not leave him, maybe.

“It wasn’t him, I know,” Tony says, softly. 

He’s made his peace with it, he’s had two years to entertain the possibilities, but he knows what it means: his boyfriend's previously-dead, now-brainwashed-assassin best friend, killed his parents. 

It doesn’t look pretty, but he can’t change the past, and even if he could, he had to let them rest. But he could help Barnes, find him, see how they could help him.

“Tony, I get it if you want to break up,” Steve says, small and scared. His voice breaks halfway through the sentence, and Tony’s hand immediately comes out to cup his face, thumb stroking gently over the bruise on his cheekbone.

“I don’t, Steve, you told me, I’m happy that you did, but I don’t, I don’t want to break up.”

The reaction is immediate, Steve relaxes under his hand and leans more into his touch, “We’re good,” he whispers, mostly to himself over and over, until Tony wraps an arm around him, mindful of his injuries.

“Yeah, baby, we’re good.”

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! please leave a comment/kudo if you liked it <33  
> [tumblr](https://nohalfway.tumblr.com) prompts are perpetually open!


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